Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Random Thoughts...

Everytime I get myself financially in good shape, I find a way to fuck it up by taking a vacation or by crashing a car.

I think I O.D'd on Wendy's this year and can probably never bring myself to eat it again.

My refrigerator is full of condiments, yet no food exists anywhere in my house.

The best TV show on right now is Studio 60 on The Sunset Strip and I'll be really pissed if they cancel it.

I can't believe it took me this long to get into "The West Wing". Same with "Entourage".

Speaking of TV, The DVR is the greatest invention of all time.

"Radio Consultant" is the worst (invention ; they're not people, they're robots.)

Another favorite thing: people who bloviate about politics for who have no idea what the fuck they're talking about. I'm looking at you, Gary.

Also, people who talk to themselves are creepy. Also creepy: adults who talk in baby talk to other adults.

KISS was really badass back in the day. And Badfinger was pretty good too, especially "We're For The Dark."

Paying someone else to do your laundry is perhaps the greatest thing ever, and it makes me weep with joy that we live in a country where this is possible.

Craiglist is pretty funny from time to time.

My grandfather was right about not trusting nuns.

So was Joe Strummer. (He who fucks nuns will later join the church, afterall...)

Joan Jett was unexpectedly fantastic when I saw her live.

Working until midnight sucks.

Friday, November 24, 2006

You can do anything, just don't step on my Brown Suede Boots...

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. Or, as Mr. Burn's Thanksgiving Day parade float entry would say, "Pranksgiving". (I need a prank-monkey, by the way...) Did the deal at my parent's house, although was sidetracked briefly when ye-olde pager went off and I had to duck into work. That was resolved fairly quickly, and I could settle into my uncomfortableness as I do every year.

My sister wasn't here this year, and it was the first Thanksgiving since my grandfather died. My mother was somewhat out of sorts by the last minute addition of some out of town friends, and I'm sure the way I was going to react to all of this wieghed heavy on her mind. She's of the opinion that "more is more" when it comes to having people over. I'd just as soon have it the four of us and my grandmother. Fin.

As usual, I sit at the head of the table. Somehow along the line I've been bestowed this hallowed position. More than likely it was ceded to me to shut me up. Because of the large amount of people there this year, we were split into the dining room and the kitchen. My mom was in the kitchen with her brother and his daughters. I was with my dad, my grandmother, great aunt, and my parent's guests. This was far from ideal. I rarely get to eat with my parents, and it would have been nice to sit with both of them for Thanksgiving. Logistically, I guess it made more sense for her to be out in the kitchen, but I was still rather nonplussed about the whole thing.

My sister had Thanksgiving at her boyfriend's mothers house. It's to my great dismay that she's hooked up with someone who shares the same name as me. Actually, he doesn't. His first name is Scott but he goes by Doug, so somehow I've been relegated to "Douglas" status, a name reserved for when I was in trouble with my parents or used by my mortal enemies. Nonetheless, there it is. "Douglas." She can rest assured that "Ali" is out the door now in favor of the more formal "Alison." It still wasn't the same without her there, strangely. We'd have what you would call a "strained" relationship. I wasn't the nicest person in the world to her growing up. (Although, in fairness, since when are older brothers nice to thier younger sisters?) She has very obvious "men issues". I choose to remedy this by not having much to do with her. I find it's much more pleasant than a constant butting of heads. We're civil to each other, but we don't really run into one another all that often. That's probably for the best. Still, it was nice to see her when she made a cameo appearance after dinner.

My old bedroom was taken by the visitors from out of town, so I had no where to crash really after my triptophine-induced coma was about to take hold. I crashed in my parents bedroom for about an hour, wallowed back downstairs, started up the fireplace, and headed out.

I don't like mixing worlds. I have several groups of friends, and they don't usually mix. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed, I've just always compartmentalized the people in my life. I like being around certain people for different reasons. This extends to dating and family. I am not ashamed of the women I date, nor am I ashamed of my family. I just don't like mixing the two.

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Everytime I write about music, I'm accused of being an uber-elitist music snob. Now this is true. I eschew what I like to call "2nd or 3rd generation alternative". This includes bands like Creed, Staind, Incubus, and other crap like that. My friend Mike (possibly a bigger elitist music snob than I am) once described the lyrics of Aaron Lewis from Staind as "Bad poetry written in a notebook by some high school wannabe." Sounds about right. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam wrote a song for Layne Staley of Alice in Chains when he died, it was about these 2nd and 3rd generation alerna-crap bands:

so all you fools
who sing just like him
feel free to do so now
cuz he's dead
using, using, using
the using takes toll
isolation
just so happy to be one
sad to, sad to think
sad to think of him more
lonesome friend, we all knew
always hoped you'd pull through
no blame, no blame
no blame, it could be you
using, you can't grow old using
so sing just like him, fuckers
it won't offend him
just me
because he's dead

I think that speaks to it better than I could.

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It's my birthday this weekend. 29 years old. Huzzah.

Monday, November 20, 2006

The Holidaze

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It makes my mother happy. When my mother is happy, everyone in her sphere of influence is happy. That's good enough for me. My mother likes having the entire extended family over for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. This is something I'm not a fan of. It's done, however, because it's what my mother likes.

This is a good enough reason. I'm not so hot on the huge family togetherness. Now that I don't live there anymore, its not quite as bad, but as a child, I couldn't stand the thought of not having an escape from the madness. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the adults in my family (more on the kids in a bit). Although, I enjoy them all for different reasons, and having them all together really dilutes the meaningfulness of talking to them at all. Unfortunately, two of the three people in my family I could talk to for hours on end without getting tired are now dead. There's been also been a seperation, and while everyone tries to avoid mentioning it or ignoring it, the fact that we're one person down who's company I enjoyed and we all know why but no one will talk about it is annoying as well.

I have nothing against my cousins or my sister, I just have nothing in common with them besides blood. There's no similar interests whatsoever. I don't even like to watch football, so there's another strike against me. You have a better chance of getting me to sing Abba hits than playing with my younger cousins.

I could go on a whole diatribe about why I don't like kids, but there's really no point, and truthfully, I'm not even sure why. My friends are starting to have them, and I really could care less about "Johnny's first words" or anything. I have nothing in common with children and I didn't even when I was one. As a child on Thanksgiving, you would see me talking about the politics of Rhode Island or the history of Iceland with my dad and our neighbor David, never would I be outside with my cousins and sister or watching football with my uncles.

This year, while my friends will be playing manhunt with cousins and nieces and nephews, I will be sitting in a room, probably with my dad, away from everyone else, talking about something noone but he and I care about, while trying to avoid any contact whatsoever with anyone under the age of 50. The house will have crackling fires in the fireplaces. The smells of hot cider and turkey will fill the house. The 18th century kitchen will be 89 degrees and crammed full with the rest of the family, telling the same stories they have told over and over for the last 25 years. My mother will be glowing, in her element. She won't be brought down by my demands of no birthday cake or acknowledgement of my birthday. I'll be in the huge, cold, living room across the house with my dad. Sitting. Talking. It will be blissful. It will be quiet. I'll be able to relax.

As for the two people besides my dad who I enjoyed talking to, it's impossible to be in that house and not feel my grandmother everywhere. It's still her house, and always will be in my mind. Regardless of how anything is changed there, I always find myself looking for something "where it used to be". As far as not having my grandfather there, it will be difficult. First time in the 28 Thanksgivings that he won't be there, silently presiding over everyone, with nary a word. The little kids now did what we did 20 years ago, if you were horsing around, it stopped when Papa entered the room. He commanded the ultimate in respect, without saying a word. We knew how we were expected to behave. And we did, when he was there. I'll miss our discussions about anything. I'll miss the way he sat and soaked everyone in, content to be amongst his family. Goddamn. I'll miss that man. It will never be the same without him there. But I'll go anyway. It's my mother's favorite thing in the world. How could I deprive her of that?

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Are You Ready For The Country?

I've been a rock and roll fan my entire life. That's undisputed. Other genres haven't really made much of an impact for the majority of my time, despite working for a hip hop radio station for several years. Country Music has always been an interesting thing with me. I vividly remember going through my father's records as a young boy and being struck by one album cover in particular, between endless spins of Sgt. Pepper and Billy Joel's "An Innocent Man":

I was quite intrigued by this cover, the gritty, handwritten liner notes on the back, and the pull-no-punches song titles: "Folsom Prison Blues", "Cocaine Blues", "Dirty Old Egg Sucking Dog", and more.

For a long, long time I thought Cash was serving time in prison during the record. This was my only exposure to country music for most of my life. It was all i needed. I had no interest in rhinestone cowboys like Garth Brooks or Brooks and Dunn, or any of that other neuovo-country shit.

Through my rock and roll listening, I've certainly come across country-flavored songs. In fact, my favorite song by my favorite band is Dead Flowers by the Rolling Stones. There's also country touches in Wild Horses, Far Away Eyes, You Got The Silver, and many, many more.

Neil Young made several straight-country albums (and wrote the namesake song for this entry).

It wasn't until this year that I got into The Flying Burrito Brothers and Gram Parsons, in particular. Gram was the guy to get the Byrds to record the Sweetheart Of The Rodeo album and pretty much single handedly invented country rock. He quit the Byrds on the eve of a South African tour in order to hang out and do drugs with Keith Richards (and given the chance, who would have passed up on that?). He brought out the country in the Stones and had a big hand in the arrangements of Wild Horses and Country Honk, among others.

He also recorded 2 solo albums, the second of which came out after he died. The ability to keep up with Keith Richards' partying isn't something most people are equipped with. Gram Parson's most famous legacy may in fact be what happened to him after he died, when his friend and manager, saying that he was honoring Gram's last wishes, kidnapped his body from LAX and burned it at the Joshua Tree. (Note to my friends: This is a wholly acceptable way of disposing of my mortal remains.)

I guess as I get older, my appreciation for the genre grows. I still love Johnny Cash, and dig Hank Williams, Jerry Lee Lewis' country stuff, the Everly Brothers, and other "classic country".

I still can't stand the modern country crap like Big and Rich and those other morons, but give me Gram Parsons or the Flying Burrito Brothers any day of the week, maybe you'll even catch me shedding a tear in my beer.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Reflections


I'm sitting here reflecting on people in my past (distant and not so distant) whom I no longer have much contact with for one reason or another. There's certain folks that needed to be left behind and others that just drifted away for one reason or another.

There's something strange about coming across someone you've tried to block out, and facing the very real prospect of interaction. Usually, I'll do my best to ignore them if it's someone I really can't stand and don't want to see (as happened this past Tuesday, see if you can guess who THAT was), or, if feelings aren't that severe, just manage a quick "hello" and move on (this reminds me of a few lines of "Good Friday" by the Black Crowes:)

We've been avoiding this for so long
Luxury is temporary than its gone
I thought that we would happen
I guess I'm wrong
We'll say hi on the street, Then we'll move along
I know this will be awkward
But not for long
Cause soon you'll have a new boy
To sing you songs

I will not forgive you
Nor will I accept the blame
I will see you on good friday
On good friday

I've been saying lately that the worst year of my life has ended. The exact dates would be October 31, 2005 - October 31, 2006. 10/31/05 was a major change of employment, and I figured my trip to San Francisco last week would be a good bookend to that. I did meet some good people over there, most of them in fact I still consider to be friends.

What's scarred me most in that time period ended at the same time as my employment with the evil empire, and if you know me well enough to be reading this, than you already know what/who I'm talking about.

Other than those two (fairly significant) things, I should reaccess the "Worst Year Of My Life" title.

In the past year I got my condo, solidified some great friendships, and finally got a good paying job I can tolorate. I've been to California twice, seen my favorite band 4 times, and some other great stuff.

It's time to kiss the past year goodbye and embrace what's coming down the line. There could be some exciting possibilities coming down the pike, and I want to be emotionally and physically sharp to meet them head on.

I'll close out the past year with some Neil Young. Significant quotes are boldfaced.

They were hiding behind hay bales,
They were planting in the full moon
They had given all they had for something new
But the light of day was on them,
They could see the thrashers coming
And the water shone like diamonds in the dew.

And I was just getting up, hit the road before it's light
Trying to catch an hour on the sun
When I saw those thrashers rolling by,
Looking more than two lanes wide
I was feelin' like my day had just begun.

Where the eagle glides ascending
There's an ancient river bending
Down the timeless gorge of changes
Where sleeplessness awaits

I searched out my companions,
Who were lost in crystal canyons
When the aimless blade of science
Slashed the pearly gates.

It was then I knew I'd had enough,
Burned my credit card for fuel
Headed out to where the pavement turns to sand
With a one-way ticket to the land of truth
And my suitcase in my hand
How I lost my friends I still don't understand.

They had the best selection,
They were poisoned with protection
There was nothing that they needed,
Nothing left to find

They were lost in rock formations
Or became park bench mutations
On the sidewalks and in the stations
They were waiting, waiting.

So I got bored and left them there,

They were just deadweight to me
Better down the road without that load

Brings back the time when I was eight or nine
I was watchin' my mama's T.V.,
It was that great Grand Canyon rescue episode.
Where the vulture glides descending

On an asphalt highway bending
Thru libraries and museums, galaxies and stars

Down the windy halls of friendship
To the rose clipped by the bullwhip
The motel of lost companions
Waits with heated pool and bar.

But me I'm not stopping there,
Got my own row left to hoe
Just another line in the field of time
When the thrashers comes, I'll be stuck in the sun
Like the dinosaurs in shrines
But I'll know the time has come
To give what's mine.
It's now that time.

Amusing to me.

Here's a picture of my good friend Liz and I with Peter Frampton backstage after his show somewhere north of San Francisco. The picture was taken this past April, hence the lack of hair. (on my part, anyway. You can blame nature for Peter's lack thereof.)